one moment...then the next

You were watching life from the edge of the road. Beautiful, majestic, serene. You were perched on the top of a wooden post, scanning the field for a careless field mouse. And then you decided to fly off. What is it you saw? What is it that made you leave? You didn't see the car that was heading in the opposite direction. And you flew straight into it. There was no way you could have missed it. The shock threw a firework of feathers into the air and you fell to the ground. But it wasn't over. The car following ran over you. And the one following that one too. There was nothing they could do. And I saw you lift your head. I saw your eagle-like profile. Frightened, confused. You lifted a sprawled wing in a last attempt to fly away from the horror. I couldn't do otherwise. There was no way I could miss you either. So I ran over you too. I heard something hit the bottom of the car. I felt sick. I felt helpless. And my only wish is that I put you out of your misery.

what is it you have to tell me?

It's the middle of February. A little ladybird has just crawled up one of the electric cables which leads to my computer. Beautiful red against black. She's come all that way to see me. She is still very small and has only two tiny black dots on her red body. One on each side.

Now you're walking across my screen. Six little busy legs, two trembling antennae and a white spot on each side of your head.

I wonder who sent you. When I was a little girl I was told that every ladybird had a secret to tell me.

solitude

You were talking to someone sitting opposite you, on the other side of the table. There were a lot of exciting things you had to say. Your mind was very crowded. Very busy. You talked about the past as you waved a hand over your shoulder. You talked about the present as you pointed your finger across the table. You put your hand through your hair when a whisper of weariness blew over you, and poured yourself another glass of wine. Every now and again, you paused and smiled, lit another cigarette and listened carefully to what he had to say.

Only there was no he.
There was no one.
Not a soul sitting opposite you.
Whoever it was had left years ago.

more solitude

You came crashing into the café. Wild hair, wild gestures, dressed like a man who had been out hunting all night. You had been a woman once. But now there was no softness left in you. The little girl you had once been must be huddling somewhere in a dark corner with jagged edges. You threw your arms in the air, screaming over and over again "the meaning of words" "the meaning of words". All these words which had done so much harm to you.

and he takes up precious space

He sat all evening with his back to her, talking to her husband. He called her husband by his name. She was referred to as 'your wife'. That inert mass that was sitting by his side. He never tried to integrate her into the conversation. The thought that a woman could have any had never occurred to him. Women were things with holes that he filled when he felt an urge between his legs. A blonde with large breasts if possible. He invited her husband over and over again to join him in his rich life of gin&tonics, easy women, long nights, smoke, dope, money and senselessness. 'Just the two of us. Between men.' Meaningful chuckle. Sniff. Swallow phlegm. Suck in nicotine. Throw head back. Purse lips.
I am life.
I am fun.
I am it.

The poor git.